


not alone

by pendules



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendules/pseuds/pendules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I don't want you to be alone," he breathes out. They both know it's not just about not wanting him to be hurt. He hasn't slept in days and he needs it but after the last very real nightmare, the one he'll never be able to forget, he can't imagine what's waiting for him there now. Logically, he knows he can't follow him in anymore; he can't protect him from what's inside his own head — but he doesn't want him to have to deal with this, with any of this, with pain or fear or despair, by himself ever again.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	not alone

It's the first night in his life that time seems irrelevant, and he's too exhausted to get up and check, but his internal clock tells him it has to be after midnight. The others had left about an hour before, and after he'd let them out and locked the door, he'd returned to his place on the couch and had been drifting in and out of sleep ever since. His body's tired enough to pass out for an entire day, even in his current uncomfortable position, but his brain's fighting it. For once, sleep doesn't seem like the best option, not when he wants to stay with Ronan, not when every time he closes his eyes, he sees all the fresh, stark horrors they'd endured.

His hand's still tangled with Ronan's on his thigh and he feels when he shifts next to him, after not moving for hours. He blinks his eyes open, suddenly completely aware, and looks up at him.

"I'm gonna go upstairs," Ronan says quietly, and he thinks it's the first thing he's said since they came back to the Barns.

He nods dazedly as Ronan extricates his fingers from Adam's and stands up, slowly, wearily. He remembers how Ronan had heavily sunk down into the sofa when they'd come through the door like he couldn't physically keep himself upright anymore, shoulders slumped, head bowed, like there was a million pounds weighing on his soul.

He carefully gets to his feet after him, reaches out to gently curl his fingers around his wrist before he can go.

"Do you, uh — Do you want me to come with you?" he asks, uncertain. He isn't sure how this works even in ordinary circumstances — they'd only kissed for the first time two days ago (although, technically, it's been three days because of time anomalies; and considering everything that's happened in that time, it could very well be ten lifetimes). He knows Ronan's fragile right now, but he doesn't know if it's the kind of fragile where he needs space to assess all the fractures inside himself and determine if they can be mended, how to start putting the pieces back together; or the kind where he needs to be surrounded by all the reasons why he wants to survive this, the reminders that he's strong enough to get through it. He isn't sure what Ronan needs from him yet, but he knows he'll give him anything he asks for, anything he's capable of giving.

Ronan shakes his head, gaze lowered. "It's okay — You don't have to —"

"Ronan —"

"No, I just — If anything happened to you too, I wouldn't — I _can't_ —" His voice breaks almost into a soft sob. He shakes his head again, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before raising them to Adam's face, wide and hollow and red-rimmed.

He heart constricts in his chest. He takes a deep breath. He nods, acknowledging Ronan's concern for him, but tightens his grip on his wrist.

"I don't want you to be alone," he breathes out. They both know it's not just about not wanting him to be hurt. He hasn't slept in days and he needs it but after the last very real nightmare, the one he'll never be able to forget, he can't imagine what's waiting for him there now. Logically, he knows he can't follow him in anymore; he can't protect him from what's inside his own head — but he doesn't want him to have to deal with this, with any of this, with pain or fear or despair, by himself ever again.

"I won't be," Ronan promises.

"I'll be right here," Adam tells him.

"I know."

He just looks at him for a minute, wondering if this deep ache he feels for him, for everything he's lost and suffered, will ever go away. He instinctively reaches out to touch his fingers to the angry-looking ring of raised purple bruises around his neck but he pulls away at the last moment, wincing. Ronan takes his other hand in his own and brings it to his mouth, kisses the knuckles almost reverently, and he knows it's done, it's forgiven, he doesn't need to say the words.

When he lets go, Adam reaches up and strokes the backs of his fingers lightly over his cheekbone before leaning up and brushing his lips to his forehead.

He slowly releases his hand and watches him turn and walk away, up the stairs, listens as the door closes quietly behind him.

He stands there a moment longer, wondering if he should follow him, go up to Declan's room, but instead, he curls up on the couch, closes his eyes, empties his mind, lets himself succumb to the exhaustion.

*

He wakes with a crick in his neck and a dull throbbing where the deep scratches on his cheek are just beginning to heal. The house is quiet in a different, more eerie way than the last time. Like a tomb. It's strange to think that it's a new day and that life carries on for everyone else as usual when their entire reality has shifted irreversibly. It's strange to think that they're actually still here, somehow, after everything. That time keeps moving forward even when you have no idea how to begin to do the same. He sits up, thinks about checking on Ronan, but decides to let him sleep as long as he can.

He goes into the kitchen and puts coffee on. He checks the time, finally. It's a few minutes after seven. It's a Tuesday in November. He's eighteen years old. He's graduating in a few months. He's alive. He tries to make these facts matter somehow. It's almost impossible. Not when Gansey was lying dead at their feet less than twenty-four hours ago; not when the sickening sounds of Ronan slowly being unmade are all too present in his mind; not when he can't feel the ley line thrumming in his veins anymore; not when Ronan had to find his mother's body in a dark, corrupted forest —

He's too distracted by his own thoughts to register Ronan's footsteps until he's come up behind him.

"Hey," he says, startled, quickly turning around, openly surveying him for any new signs of damage.

He still looks worse for wear, but his eyes are slightly brighter, the dark circles under them less pronounced.

He lets out the tiniest sigh of relief.

He passes him a mug and Ronan doesn't say anything, just takes it and leans in to press a brief kiss to his cheek in lieu of a thank-you.

They stand there together, leaning against the counter, taking slow sips of hot coffee, the silence resting thick and heavy on them — before Adam reaches over to put his cup in the sink next to Ronan, then swallows hard before looking up at him, jaw clenched.

"Are you leaving?" Ronan asks evenly, correctly reading the regretful look on his face.

"I can't — I can't miss another day of school. Finals are coming up and — I'm really sorry." It's useless and frustrating and he hates himself a little for having to say it. It's the last thing he wants to do right now. The mere idea of him spending these next few days here alone is almost too much to bear.

"It's okay. I'll be fine," Ronan says, and he wishes he could believe him with everything he has.

" _Ronan_ ," he says, deliberate and urgent. "If you want me to stay —"

Ronan gently rests his fingers on the side of his neck and pulls him in to bring their mouths together, a soft, warm, soothing kiss that tells him everything he needs to know: that he wants him here with him, that he knows Adam will be there for him whenever he needs him, that he's grateful that even in the worst hours to come, they'll have _this_.

It feels like the first real breath he's taken since they'd stepped into his harrowing dream that awful morning. It's ridiculous, imagining sitting in French class like their world wasn't completely obliterated, but maybe they have to start somewhere. The smallest step towards rebuilding some sense of normalcy.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Adam assures him firmly. 

Ronan grazes his thumb along the line of his jaw, tenderly ghosts his fingertips over the bandage under his eye, before nodding. "That's all I need," he tells him earnestly, holding his gaze for a long moment before letting go.


End file.
